


New Beginnings

by MusicWritesMyLife



Category: Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Lois and Clark are partners, Lois is generally a badass, adorable farm boy Clark Kent in flannel, and Clark is totally in love with it, and probably a lot more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicWritesMyLife/pseuds/MusicWritesMyLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's never fallen victim to writer's block before. Then again, Clark Kent has never occupied the desk across from hers before, either. The fact that she can't stop thinking about him doesn't help, nor do Jenny's comments about how hot he is. It's all she can do not to stand up and yell at everyone that Clark Kent is TAKEN. Lois and Clark adjust to working together. Post Man of Steel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lois

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Man of Steel and couldn't get Lois voice out of my head, so this was born. Basically a series of one shots outlining how they adjust to life after Zod, including, but not limited to, working together and navigating the waters of relationshipdom (because let's face it, neither of them have much experience).
> 
> This was preciously published on FFN but has been edited since. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It starts out like any other day at the office. She's barely been at her desk five minutes before Lombard is there, waving what looks suspiciously like tickets in front of her face and saying something about courtside seats. It’s not the first time he's come up with some slick lines to try and entice her on a date. She has yet to say yes.           

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Lois turns her attention to the stack of paperwork on her desk. Lombard waves the tickets enticingly at Jenny. "Courtside?"           

_(She_ doesn't refrain from rolling her eyes.)

Lois shakes her head, corners of her mouth twitching. You have to hand it to him, the guy knows how to be persistent. "Don't even try," she tells him. Lombard isn't Jenny's type.           

Lombard opens his mouth, looking as though he might protest.           

"Lombard, Lane.” Perry's booming voice effectively silences whatever objection Lombard was about to make. "I want you to meet our new stringer and I want you to show him the ropes. This is Clark Kent. Good luck kid."           

She notices the man beside Perry while he talks. He's tall, dark-haired and very handsome, though not the most sharply dressed. The plaid shirt—flannel no less—looks better suited for a farmer than a big city journalist; Lois is willing to admit, however, that if there's anyone who can make a farm shirt look sexy, it's this guy. He's glancing around the office like it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, but at an angle so that she can't see his face. It's not until Perry says his name that he turns, looking slightly startled, like he's forgotten everyone exists.           

It's all Lois can do to reign in a gasp when she catches sight of his face. He has glasses on, with wide lenses and thick black frames that scream _Nerdy Journalist_ , but there's no mistaking him. She'd have known him in an instant, even if Perry hadn't introduced him.             

She's shocked the others don't recognise him. Is it not so obvious that Superman is right here, in regular clothes, taking the long-empty post at the City desk? Or are the glasses really that good of a disguise?                 

Even though it's only been a matter of seconds since they've been "introduced" and both Jenny and Lombard are still staring—for very different reasons—Lois feels the need to react, as if standing there for another second is going to give her away.

(it might. Perry is very observant.)

Taking a deep breath and hoping she doesn't look as completely blindsided as she feels, Lois steps forward, arranging her features into what she hopes is a welcoming smile.    "Hi, Lois Lane." She reaches out to shake his hand as if he's just some guy she's meeting for the first time and not the alien saviour of the world she might very well be in love with. "Welcome to the _Planet_."           

It's only after the words are out of her mouth that she realises the implications of what she's said, and can feel the heat spreading across her cheeks. She meant to welcome him to the paper, but it's clear now her comment could easily have been interpreted as "Welcome to our planet. Since, you know, you're not from it."

Clark has obviously interpreted it like that because he cocks his head slightly to the side, confused. Lois can feel the heat creeping across her cheeks and wants more than anything to explain herself, even though she knows doing so will only make it worse.

After a moment, however, Clark seems to understand what she means, because his confusion is replaced by a beatific, boyish grin that makes Lois' heart stutter, and takes her hand. His grip is warm and firm; the contact between their skin is like touching a live wire: a jolt of heat travels the length of her arm, stirring something deep inside of her that is unlike anything she's ever felt before.             

"Glad to be here, Lois," he says, brilliant, blue eyes twinkling with mirth like her comment is a private joke only he understands. The way her name rolls so fluidly off his tongue sends chills running down her spine.           

_No I'm glad_ you’re _here_ , she wants to say, but doesn't, afraid of seeming too forward. She doesn't want everyone at the office knowing the intensity of her feelings for Clark.

(Especially when she's pretty sure Lombard, Jenny, and Perry saw her kissing Superman.)

(Clark would never forgive her for blowing his cover. And she doesn't want to. He deserves a life.)

* * *

 

The tour doesn't last long. Or at least not for Lois. By some stroke of luck, her phone goes off within the first ten minutes, and she has to dash back to her desk to conduct the interview, leaving Clark at the mercy of Lombard. Not that she particularly minds; she's been finding it entirely too difficult to think clearly when he's around.  

Her article is supposed to be on Perry's desk tomorrow, but for the life of her she can't seem to put words on the page. The interview— which only lasted ten minutes or so—has given her some information to work with, but it could be in Chinese for all the good it's doing her.

(She's never fallen victim to writer's block. Her problems usually revolve around having too much to say, not too little.)

She abandons her work after an hour of fruitless attempts, escaping to the break room. Maybe some coffee will help clear her head.

(She doesn't think it will, but at least it’s a break from the endless circle of typing and deleting she's caught in.)

Mercifully, the room is empty. Lois beelines to the coffee pot, all the while trying not to think about Clark, whose desk happens to be right across the aisle from hers. He hasn't been there for the last couple hours—Lombard must still be showing him around, though there really isn't that much to see—but that hasn't stopped her from staring at the empty space and seeing his face, nor has it stopped Jenny from commenting on how hot he is. Yet another reason Lois needs an escape: her possessiveness is getting harder and harder to squash. She had to leave before yelling at Jenny that Clark was already taken.             

She's so engrossed in thought she doesn't here the door opening, doesn't notice that he's come in until she turns around, reaching for a coffee cup.

The sight of Clark standing in the doorway, watching her, is enough to stop her heart for what feels like a full minute. As usual, her mind has gone completely blank and she can do nothing but stand there and stare, hand still reaching for the paper cup.           

The silence is stifling and painfully awkward. They stand there, staring at each other for what feels like eternity—though in reality it's only a few seconds—before Clark reaches out and grabs two cups, passing one to her.           

"Thanks," she mumbles, hastily snatching it and turning back to the coffee pot.            

 "No problem." His voice is calm. Steady. It reminds her of the ocean.             

Lois pours herself some coffee, painfully aware all the while of his proximity. It's like there's an electric current running between them. She wonders if he can feel it too.

(She sneaks a few surreptitious glances as she adds milk and sugar, but all she can tell is that he takes his coffee black and looks really sexy in glasses.)                

"I didn't know you were working here," she says finally, feeling a need to say something to break the silence.

Clark sighs, raking a hand through those thick, ebony locks. Lois' fingers itch to reach out and touch it, but she keeps them firmly wrapped around her cup. "I'm sorry I didn't call," he says quietly. There's genuine regret in his voice and something else—guilt? "I meant to, I just..."               

"It's all right. I've been busy with work." _And thinking about you all the time._               

"It's not all right. I shouldn't have just left you hanging like that. Not after everything that happened..." The fact that he can't finish the sentence cements her suspicions that he blames himself for what happened with General Zod. Which is ridiculous.               

"It's not because I forgot about you," he continues, pace becoming more harried. She's never seen Clark nervous or unsure before. The contrast from his quiet, steadfast self is strangely cute. "Not a day went by where I didn't...I just didn't know what to say. And I didn't want to pressure you. After everything that happened, I would understand if-"

Lois steps forward, placing her coffee cup on the counter before taking his mouth with her own. She doesn't want to hear the whole _I get it if you don't want me_ speech. She just wants Clark to kiss her. In fact, that's all she's been thinking about for the few weeks, ever since he went back to Smallville. "Don't ever think for a minute that I'm here out of obligation," she whispers fiercely. "If I didn't want to be here, you can be damn sure I wouldn't be hanging around. I've got better things to do with my life."

Clark flashes a cheeky grin. "Yes ma'am."

A chastising comment is on the tip of her tongue but Clark swoops in and claims her mouth once more before she can say anything else. His hands cup her face, his fingers cradling the base of her skull like it's made of glass, but he kisses her like she's oxygen and he's been holding his breath for far too long. Lois isn't quite so gentle: her fingers rake through his hair, loving the way the thick curls glide through her fingers.

After a moment, she pulls away, breathless. She wants nothing more than to keep kissing Clark, but she's all too aware of the fact that they're still at the office; anyone can walk in at any moment and catch them.

(The last thing she needs is more gossip following her around the office.)

Clark, doesn't let her get very far however, looping his arms around her waist to keep her close, their foreheads still touching.

"We have to stop," Lois says, trying unsuccessfully to escape Clark's grip. "Someone could see us.”

“And?"

"And I'm not supposed to know you, remember? We just met."

The corner of Clark's lips twitch. "Maybe we just have chemistry."

Lois rolls her eyes. _Men._ "Seriously, Clark. It would be nice not to give the office gossips another reason to be talking about me."

He sighs, reluctantly letting go. "So what do we do?"

Now it's Lois' turn to grin. "We do what any other couple does," she replies casually, picking up her discarded coffee and taking a sip. "We flirt for a couple of weeks, you ask me out for a cup of coffee, we progress to dinner, the movies, and voila! We're just another couple."

Clark looks slightly wistful. "Just like any other couple," he says quietly and she knows how much he wishes that were true.

She nods.

"Clark and Lois are just like every other couple." He contemplates his coffee for a while before flashing a small smile. "Clark and Lois. It has a nice ring to it."

Lois pauses, twisting her mug between both hands.

“How do they not know?" she asks eventually.

Clark blinks, confused. "Pardon?"

"The others," Lois elaborates. The question has been on the tip of her tongue ever since he walked in this morning. To her, his identity was always obvious.  "How do they not know you're Superman? I mean no offence or anything, but those glasses really don't offer up much of a disguise."      

Clark looks up at her, grinning. "I guess it's the lack of suit. The cape makes me stand out, you know."  

"You don't really need them, do you? The glasses, I mean." She feels like an idiot as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

(Of course he doesn't need glasses. He has X-Ray vision.)

Clark chuckles. "No, I don't need them," he says, reaching up to adjust them. "But I figured they'd be appropriate."

"They are. Very academic." She winks deviously. Two can play this game.

Clark frowns slightly. "Where I come from, academic was never really a compliment."

It takes her a moment to remember that he means Kansas and not Krypton.

"Well, around here, it's a big one. Everyone in this business wants to be smart. Means you're taken seriously."

"Well, that's good to know, seeing as I don't actually know anything about being a journalist."

Lois chuckles, beginning to feel a little more at ease. "As far as jobs go, it's really not that complicated. Besides, Perry wouldn't hire you if he didn't think you were qualified.”

"Well, in any case, I don't know enough to compete with Pulitzer prize-winners." Clark flashes that boyish grin and Lois' insides turn to putty.

“I’m sure you’ll catch on.”           

"I'm sure I will." His grin widens. "After all, I have an excellent teacher."          

"What?"

Clark takes a step closer and it's like all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's about an inch between his chest and hers, and it's all she can do not to stare at those beautiful lips. "You'll help me, won't you, Lois?”

(His proximity makes it very hard for her to think straight, but she's determined not to lose her cool.)

"What makes you think I want to help?" she whispers breathlessly. He's getting closer and closer and all she can think about is that mouth and what she wants it to do to her.

(Or, more specifically, how she wants it to resume what it was doing to her five minutes ago.)

“Because you’re going to take pity on the poor, bumbling country boy who’s terribly clumsy and show him how things are done here. Because even though he’s royally uncoordinated, he’s smart, and you think he deserves a chance,” Clark murmurs. His lips brush against hers, setting her skin ablaze.

(It’s all she can do not to jump him right now.)

“Well, when you put it like that...” Lois grins before pulling him in for another kiss. “How can I refuse?”


	2. Clark

He's long ago resigned himself to the fact that he'll never be able to live a normal life. He'll never be able to fit in with society, never be able to be himself around others, never be able to have a real relationship because he'll always partly be living a lie. He's born to be a nomad, to live the life of a loner. The world isn't ready to handle him.

After the world he's come to think of as his is attacked by people from the world that _is_ his own, however, he begins to realise that maybe he's been looking at it all wrong. Maybe the world isn't ready to accept him, but there's no denying they need him. And he's come to realise that the person he's become—Superman, the saviour of the world—and the person he's always been—Clark Kent, the farm boy from Kansas—don't have to be one and the same. While they may be two sides of the same coin, nobody needs to know it. He can be Clark and he can be Superman, and as long as nobody finds out that Clark Kent _is_ Superman, he may have a shot at living a normal life after all.

(Or as close to normal as you can get when you're an alien who's probably the last of your race.)

Applying for the job at the Daily Planet is a spur of the moment decision. He rationalises afterwards; this kind of job makes perfect sense for someone like him: someone who needs to be kept abreast of what's going on in the world, who needs to be able to go places and ask questions without being questioned. A job that allows him to control how much the world does and doesn't know about Superman.

(The fact that it puts his English degree to a good use is an added bonus.)

He tells himself applying for the job had nothing to do with the fact that Lois works there, even though he knows it does.

She teases him about it when he tells her. "You just can't stay away from me, can you, Smallville?"

The nickname is something she came up with after he showed up on his first day of work in what she called a "farm boy shirt" (while he has nothing against plaid, it's apparently not something any self-respecting journalist with a major metropolitan newspaper would wear. Particularly when it's flannel) and seems to have stuck. He doesn't mind, in fact, he likes it.

He tries to tell her there were many other more logical reasons for taking the job, but she just laughs. The sound is music to his ears.

"Sure. Because working for the City desk is so appealing. Face it, Kent, you're just crazy for me."

He is. He's never been so completely head over heels for a woman the way he is for Lois Lane. They've barely know each other a month, and already, Clark can't imagine life without her. She's the only one other than his mother to know his real identity—or rather, identities. She keeps him grounded in the real world and makes sure that, in amidst all the heroics, Clark Kent is still there. She's the only thing that keeps him from losing himself again.

He finds himself an apartment in the east end of the city. Lois frowns when he tells her this; the neighbourhood, apparently, is _seedy._  (Not that he's too worried. He's not that easy to beat up). Besides, as he explains to her, it has a tiny balcony that looks out over a deserted back alley, which is perfect for discrete comings and goings at all hours of the day.

"I doubt anyone's going to come here looking for Superman," he says, pouring himself some coffee.

"Shh!" Lois exclaims, looking around. The break room has become their secret place, the only spot in the office where they can be themselves.

Clark can't help grinning. Despite his X-Ray vision and enhanced hearing, Lois is still afraid that someone will walk in on them.

She catches sight of his smirk and smacks his bicep playfully. It's hard enough to make a grown man recoil, but he barely feels it. "Shut up, Smallville," she mutters, stirring cream into her own coffee. "I'm still getting used to this, okay? Not everyone has an alien for a boyfriend."  

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. It's the only drawback to their relationship being a secret: he can't hold her nearly as often as he wants to. "Not everyone has Lois Lane for a girlfriend, either."

Lois is the one grinning now, cheeky smile lighting up her face. "Damn right, Kent. I'm one of a kind."

(Doesn't he know it.)

He's never met anyone like Lois before. So strong and independent and in-your-face. She's the prime example of what every reporter dreams to be: always there right away, and _always_ asking questions. She's not afraid to speak her mind, she's incredibly stubborn, and yet, she's also strangely accepting; perhaps one of the most accepting people Clark has ever met.

(God help him if she ever decides to leave.)

* * *

 His first assignment is covering the annual “Friends of Metropolis" benefit. Lois, who's covered the benefit a number of times, is saddled, much to her great displeasure, with the responsibility of accompanying so that she can show him the ropes.

“It’s ridiculously unfair,” she protests, flopping down on his bed with an aggravated sigh. “Perry’s just doing this to spite me. He knows you’re more than capable of handling this on your own and he knows that I hate it.”

Clark glances up from the stove, grinning. "Or maybe he just doesn't trust the new guy to know what he's doing and is sending someone more experienced whom he does trust to make sure that everything runs smoothly."          

He doesn't need to look to catch the pillow Lois chucks at his head, nor does he need to turn to know that she's glaring at him. "Not helping, Smallville."           

He sighs heavily, as if trying to squash his disappointment. "Good thing I didn't ask then."         

"Ask?" Lois sits bolt up right like she’s been administered and electric shock. "What were you going to ask?"           

Clark shrugs, keeping his attention focused on the pot of pasta boiling on the stovetop. It's taking all his strength not to laugh and he knows that if she sees his face his cover will be blown. "Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go the benefit with me, but I glad I didn't. Since you hate it so much."           

There's a moment of silence. When Lois speaks, her voice is quiet.           

"Ask me to the—You mean as a date?"           

Clark chuckles. It's not often that he sees Lois Lane at a loss for words. "You said we had to do this like normal people, remember? We've passed the casual flirting and we've had coffee three times—"         

Lois snorts.  "Being in the break room at the same time hardly counts as having coffee."         

"Ok, so we haven't had coffee yet. I just thought it was time for Clark Kent to 'grow a pair' as you're so fond of saying, and ask you out on a date." He swallows the butterflies suddenly creeping their way up his throat. "I wanted to ask you out on a date. Officially. Since you, know we haven't yet."          

 Lois stares at him like she doesn't know what to say, and he can't help feeling self-conscious. Is this too much? Did she want to keep their home life and their work life separate? He knows that the fact that Perry and some of their other co-workers had seen them kiss in the aftermath of Zod's invasion bothers her, despite her assurances that nobody else will think anything of it because she told them it was just a fling. She's always worried that people will find out who he is, terrified—for reasons he can't begin to understand—that their relationship will make it impossible for him to live a normal life. He just wants to make her understand that she's what makes his life so normal, that without her, it's too easy to lose himself in the alien and forget that he can be normal too.          

"I mean, if you think it's too soon, we can take it slower," he adds hastily, combing a hand through his hair. He wishes he knew more about relationships, wishes he had some kind of experience in this field. So far he's been just following his feelings, but now that they have to "start over" he's not sure that's going to work anymore. "You know what? Just forget I said anything."           

"It's not too slow," Lois says confidently, like she's ordering around interns at the office. Smiling, she swings off the bed and comes to join him at the stove. "I was momentarily caught off-guard by you telling me you had decided to grow a pair—which you don't, in case you were wondering. Neither does Clark Kent," she adds with a suggestive wink. "They're just fine the way they are. More than fine, actually."          

Clark can't help the slight flush that spreads across his cheeks. While he and Lois are both very liberal minded, he's still from small-town Kansas, where there are just some things you don't talk about. The size of your male anatomy is one of them. "How do you even—?"

Lois as usual, doesn't miss a beat. "That suit of yours doesn't leave much to the imagination, Smallville." Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rests her head against his back and adds, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, well, you’re you and I’m...” Clarks sighs, stirring the pasta irritably and trying to squash his rising embarrassment. “Can we not talk about this?”

(The number of people in Metropolis who've seen his— He doesn't even want to think about it.)

She giggles, and leans forward, planting a kiss on his shoulder blade. Her lips sear his skin through his T-Shirt. “If it really bothers you that much, Smallville. Though you really don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“ _Lois_.”

 “Right.” He can feel her grin against his back. “Sorry.”

“It’s—it’s fine. Just...”

“Don’t ever mention it again?”

He lets out a relieved chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Your wish is my command, Kent.”

Clark has to bite his tongue to keep back a snort of laughter. Compliance has never been Lois' forte.

“I guess I have to go shopping now, don't I?”

Clark frowns, trying, and failing, to follow her thought process. “Shopping?”

Lois nods, dropping back onto the bed with a grin. “Well, I’m going to need a dress for this benefit thing, aren’t I?” She winks. “Wouldn’t want my date to be disappointed.”

* * *

 The benefit starts out as a success. Lois looks stunning in a purple silk dress that shows entirely too much leg; Clark has difficulty keeping his eyes off of her. The other men seem to be equally affected, and a tiny part of him can’t help worrying that she’ll be more interested in the competition—after all, Clark Kent can’t hold a candle to any of them.

The disappearance of Superman is a hot topic of conversation, but no one seems to make the connection that the slightly bumbling reporter from _The Daily Planet_ is in fact the caped saviour of the world. Lois glances at him nervously every time she hears it mentioned, but she shouldn’t worry: the glasses and lack of suit seem to be a pretty foolproof costume.

The dance floor opens up after dinner and Lois drags him out before he has the chance to process her request, let alone come up with an answer. Dancing has never been his forte, but he doesn’t want to give any of the other men a chance to take his place. While Lois may not notice them, Clark is all too aware of his competition. He’s never been the jealous type, but, then again, he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

They move slowly, lost in their own little world. Lois can’t seem to care less about his dancing abilities; she seems only to care about the fact that they are dancing. Clark finds it incredibly hard not to kiss her in front of everyone because she’s just so beautiful. She tips her head to the side and asks him if he’s all right, and he tries to come up with the words to tell her that he’s never been better in his life.

He’s interviewing some billionaire from Gotham when he hears the sirens on the other side of the city. There’s an apartment building on fire, and the rescuers can’t get to the family trapped on the top floor because the inferno is too intense. He manages to catch Lois’ eye and she swoops in right away like his own personal saviour—which she is—saying something about a phone call from Perry and a copy-editing nightmare at the office. He flashes her a grateful smile as he excuses himself, and she responds with a look that says, _Be careful. Or else._

By the time he gets home, it’s nearly one in the morning. The benefit is long over, and Clark feels a pang of guilt at having abandoned Lois to do his job. He’s not too sure how well this reporting thing is going to go over if he’s always dashing off to save the day in the middle of assignments. He’s covered in soot from head to toe, reeks of smoke, and feels like he’s been hit with a freight truck—though that wouldn’t really hurt that much—but the sight of Lois asleep in his bed, wearing his Kansas Jayhawks T-Shirt, her arms curled around his pillow, is enough to make him forget it all. Her silk dress is thrown over the chair in the corner, heels on the floor beside it, and he regrets not being there to take that dress off for her.

(It's probably for the better that he wasn't; he's not sure that he'd know what to do afterwards.)

He ignores the temptation to crawl into bed beside her and drags himself into the shower, propelled by Lois' voice chiding him for coming to bed filthy. She’s awake when he emerges, suit having been traded for a pair of flannel pyjama pants. The corners of her mouth twitch into a smile, but he can see the worry mingling with exhaustion in her eyes. She doesn’t need to worry about him, but he knows it’s not something he can prevent.

“You should be sleeping,” he murmurs, sliding into bed beside her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lois is never too tired to roll her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep, and look how that turned out.” She sighs, slipping her arms around his waist. “I’m glad you woke me.” Her breath whispers across his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Clark sighs, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face. It glides through his fingers like silk. “You don’t have to wait up for me.”

“And you don’t _have_ to go out and save the world.”

“Lois—” He thinks she might be being a little bit dramatic.

“Just accept it, Smallville. As long as you’re out saving the world, I’m going to wait up for you.”

He presses her against his chest and burying his face in her hair. He doesn’t think he’s ever loved anyone as much as he loves her in this moment. "You know I'm lost without you, right, Lois?"             

His voice is quiet, but he can tell from the way her face softens that she can hear the pain in it. He hopes she understands that he can’t survive without her.             

"I know," she murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly with her hands. "I know."

(Lying there in her arms, feeling more at home than he has in his whole life, Clark realises Superman’s biggest weakness isn't Kryptonite. It’s Lois Lane.)


	3. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois has a plan for her and Clark to work together and Clark has a plan to help Lois with her culinary problem.

The idea comes to Lois in the middle of a meeting with a source. She’s sitting at a table in some nondescript coffee shop in the middle of the city, taking notes about how LuthorCorp is scamming its investors within an inch of their lives, when it hits her: they can be partners. Clark needs someone to be able to cover his back if he has to run off and save the world, not to mention help him find his way in the big bad world of journalism. And she, well, she gets to spend time with Clark at work without having to sneak off to the break room. It’s a win-win scenario.

Convincing Perry takes a little bit more effort.

“You want to partner with Kent?” Perry’s voice is flat. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

“Yes,” Lois says firmly, hoping he’s not going to object. She doesn’t want to have to resort to desperate measures to get what she wants.

“You want to partner with Kent? Lane, you’ve never wanted to share a by-line in your entire career.” Perry shakes his head. “Why the sudden interest?”

She shrugs, trying to remain impartial. “I think the experience would be mutually beneficial. Clark needs someone to help show him the ropes. He’s still a little timid about the whole investigative journalist thing. Not that that’s a bad thing,” she adds hastily, watching Perry’s eyebrows rise. “He just needs some encouragement.”

“And you think you can offer that to him?”

She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah. You know how I am when I get a lead, Perry. He’ll have to adapt quickly, or he won’t survive.” Clark isn't going to be happy with her comeback, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, she’s helping his whole bumbling farm boy persona.

Perry sighs, taking off his glasses. He always does that when he’s about to make a serious point, or when she’s worn him out with her tireless insisting. This time, she thinks it might be a combination of both. “If you’re willing to share the work, then I don’t have a problem with it, Lane. I just don’t know that you know what you’re signing up for.”

Lois breathes a small sigh of relief. That went a lot better than she thought. “Thanks, Perry. You’re not going to regret this.”

Her editor just shakes his head. “You, of all people, shouldn’t be saying that.”

She pauses, one hand on the doorframe, unable to stop herself from grinning. “Aw, come on, Perry, when have I ever let you down?”

* * *

“So you basically told him I’m not good enough to do my job on my own.”

Lois shakes her head, combing a hand through her hair. It’s a habit she’s gotten into whenever she’s frustrated or tired. Sometimes when she’s angry. “That’s not what I said! I said you needed to be encouraged. Be more aggressive. That’s all. It’s not a bad thing,” she adds, as she catches sight of the expression on Clark’s face. “A lot of journalists start out that way.”

Clark shakes his head, though she can tell from his smile that he’s not really mad. “Why do I get the feeling you weren’t one of those people?”

She grins. “Gee, I don’t know. Must be those super senses.”

“Must be.” He opens the fridge, contemplating the empty shelves. They’re spending the evening at her place—not because she wanted to, but because Clark said he felt bad because she was spending so many nights away from home. She was more than happy to brush aside his insistence that it wasn’t fair to make her feel like she always had to come over to his place—“I _can_ go out in public, Lois.”—but when he flashed that teasing grin and asked her if she kept him away because she was afraid to let him see her apartment, she had to cave. No way was she going to let anyone think she was scared to show her place off. She wasn’t. Clark’s place was just so much _homier_. And less empty. And had a fridge full of food. Hers had beer, some yogurts, and a head of lettuce that probably wasn’t edible.

“God, Lois, what do you eat?”

She blushes, and wishes she hadn't. There’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to cook, and she’s never been bothered by her culinary impairment before, but having eaten Clark’s cooking—and seen the inside of his fridge—she’s a little embarrassed. She should be better at this. “Take-out mostly.”

Clark raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “What?” she asks, immediately on the defensive. “Not everyone grew up with a kitchen goddess.”

He laughs. Lois realises it’s the first time she’s heard him really laugh since they met. It’s transforming. She can see a glimpse of the man the world so rarely sees, the man who isn't burdened by responsibility, who doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. She’s started to see more and more of it since he’s become Clark, but even Clark Kent seems weighed down by problems that aren’t his.

“While my mom might be very flattered to hear that, I think you might be exaggerating a little,” Clark says once the laughter finally subsides.

“Whatever. The point is cooking is not my forte.”

(Really, she thought Clark would have figured that much out by now. Has he not noticed the few times that he’s stayed over that she had never cooked anything?)

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to fix that, then.” Clark grins, that loose, boyish smile that makes Lois’ insides turn to putty.

She can’t help snorting in disbelief. “Hate to burst your bubble here, Smallville, but I don’t think this is a problem you can fix.”

(He really doesn’t understand the gravity of her ineptitude in the kitchen. She can’t even be trusted with scrambled eggs.)

“I think you might be underestimating my abilities here, Miss Lane,” Clark replies easily, coming up behind where she’s stationed herself at the kitchen table with her laptop and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Besides, it’s only fair. If you’re going to teach me how to be an intrepid reporter, I should teach you something in return.”

His sense of justice is ridiculously cute. It’s one of the reasons why he’s the best type of law enforcement. It also makes him very hard to resist. Not to mention the idea of private cooking lessons with Clark Kent is a definite turn-on.

“Really? Well, in that case, how can I refuse?”

She can tell he’s smiling when he plants a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I guess we’d better get some groceries then, shouldn’t we?”

* * *

Grocery shopping with Clark Kent is surprisingly...normal.

They fall into an easy routine, him pushing the cart and her running to fetch whatever it is that's next on the grocery list Clark seems to have come up with on the way over. They debate the merits of organic produce, and bicker over whether or not its better to buy sale items over regularly priced ones—Clark says it is, but Lois isn't entirely convinced they're not on sale because they're on the verge of expiring. She believes in getting her money’s worth, even if it means spending a little more. Everything feels so familiar, so comfortable. It’s as if they've been doing this for years.

A pair of old women pass them in the canned goods aisle, where Lois and Clark are arguing over which is better: marinara or Bolognese. Clark thinks that marinara is the best—“and seeing as I’m the one who’s doing the cooking, I should be the one to choose”—but Lois doesn’t agree—“why does the fact that you’re the chef have anything to do with what gets picked? It’s a free country, Smallville. Besides, _I’m_ the student, so shouldn’t I get to pick?”.

“Newlyweds,” the older one sighs. “So in love.”

Her companion nods, smiling. “It’s not something you see a lot of nowadays. People getting divorced left, right, and centre, like marriage is nothing more than a bad first date.”

“Not those two. They’ll be just as in love when they’re our age.”

Lois cheeks turn the same colour as the jar of sauce in her hand. Marriage isn't something she’s ever thought about much; her career has been her primary focus since she was in middle school.

What’s more disconcerting is the fact that she sort of agrees with them. She’s never felt for anyone the way she feels about Clark. None of her boyfriends—not that there were many—have ever elicited such uncontrollable emotions. Which, when you’re used to being in control all the time, is terrifying.

“Do we really seem that...?” Lois glances helplessly at Clark, hoping that he’ll understand what she can’t say.

Clark grins. “What?”

Lois wants to hit him but doesn’t because her hands are full of pasta sauces.

(So much for him being a gentleman.)

“You know...in love?”

The boyish grin just widens. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” she mutters, turning away to return the jars of sauce to their shelves. She doesn’t want to admit how scared she is. How _uncertain_. Despite her confident attitude when it comes to all things relationship-related, this are uncharted waters for her as much as it is for him. She’s never been in a relationship like this before. “I just...I’ve never thought about marriage.”

Clark chuckles. “Well, I think it’s a little early to be worrying about _that_. After all, I’m pretty sure the rules of dating mandate that we be together for at least a year before we think about getting hitched.”

Lois smiles. “I’m impressed, Smallville. Who knew you’d pick up on the rules of dating so fast?”

“Aliens learn faster,” Clark murmurs, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Lois can feel the blush flaming across her skin. It’s the first time they shown affection in public—because, while the break room is technically a public place, there’s never anyone around when they’ve kissed before—and, even though it’s nothing serious, her stomach is fluttering like it’s prom and her date’s just kissed her in the middle of the dance floor.

It isn't until they’re driving home, trunk filled with more groceries than Lois is pretty sure she’s ever bought in her life, that it hits her. She wants this. This—whatever it is between her and Clark, because she’s pretty sure relationship isn't strong enough of a word. And she doesn’t want to say _soulmates_ ; that’s just too much too soon.

She’s committed. She’s in for the long haul. For all the freaky alien invaders and laws-of-physics-defying feats and football game and late nights stressing over their latest story. She wants the secret kisses in the break room and the not-so-secret kisses in the middle of the street, the sweet kisses that make her insides turn to putty and the kisses that are like a lightning strike coursing through her veins. She wants to stand in the grocery store bickering over what kind of produce they’re going to put in their fridge, and stand in the middle of a house bickering over whether or not the backyard is big enough for their kids to be happy. She wants to comfort him after he’s dealt with yet another of the world’s crises and wants him to comfort her when she’s dealing with a crisis on the home front. She wants to be his partner in a professional capacity—she’s positive he’s the only person she’ll ever want to share a by-line with—but also in a personal capacity. She wants to know that he has her back in the field and at home. She convinced Perry to let them work together because she knew they could be a great team, but she doesn’t want that team to only exist in the office, because, as cheesy as it sounds, she knows they can be a great team outside the office too.

Lois has never really considered marriage before. As far as she was concerned, it was a partnership she didn’t have any aversion to partaking in, but it was majorly sidelined in favour of the career. She wouldn’t mind getting married, but she probably wouldn’t mind not getting married, either. She was ambivalent. Her job at the _Planet_ was her life; she was more than content to be married to it. It was much less complicated than a husband.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Clark’s weathered Ford pick-up—because even though he takes his bike everywhere he _does_ have a car—listening to him singing along with Van Morrison, she realises she’s always been so blasé about marriage because she’s never found anyone she wanted to share her life with.

(Until now.)

* * *

Their first story is published in the Thursday edition of the _Planet_ a week after Lois convinces Perry to let them work together as partners. It’s not a major story—certainly not the calibre of some of her previous ones—definitely not deserving of a Pulitzer prize, and only appears on page 6—which Lois would have once considered to be the worst form of humiliation—but the sight of it makes her feel giddy nonetheless. Not so much the content—yet another political scandal—but the fact that it’s _theirs_. _They_ chased down leads and interviewed sources. _They_ made more phone calls than Lois can count, trying to talk to cagey politicians who had “No comment”. _They_ slaved away at all hours of the night, compiling information to come up with their story. And while it had been slightly more harrowing than a solo effort—Lois wasn’t used to not being able to write whatever she wanted—it’s infinitely more rewarding.

(She doesn’t think she’s ever been so giddy to see her name in a by-line.)

Clark’s desk is empty when Lois gets back from the cafeteria—not having time to snag breakfast before leaving this morning she popped down to the cafeteria at the first possible opportunity to grab a bagel and another cup of coffee—which dampens her good mood slightly. She wants to share their victory, but she’s willing to wait; she still has that LuthorCorp story to hack away at. There’s a copy of the _Planet_ perched on the edge of her desk, and she has to tell herself not to look at it.

_Not until Clark gets back. Focus on the story, Lane. This one. Not the one in the paper._

It seems like eternity—what on _Earth_ can he be doing?—but Clark eventually returns to his desk, a stack of papers in his hand. He’s traded his flannel shirts—thank God—for a crisp, blue button down, black tie and slacks, which makes him look like a serious investigative journalist and not a college professor. His glasses are slightly crooked, which Lois is thinks is perfect; Clark Kent isn't one of those perfectly put together types. There’s always something slightly off about him.

(She thinks it’s cute.)

Lois waits until he’s sitting at his desk—which is still across the aisle because, despite her insistence that partners should be face-to-face, Perry insists he can’t evict people from their desks just because it will make her happy—before getting up, paper in hand. He looks so studious, poring over whatever it is he collected from the printer. His glasses are still lopsided, and he makes careful annotations in the margins of the document, his pencil moving in slow, precise strokes. She drops the paper casually on his desk, fighting the urge to laugh at the way he starts, yanked violently from his work. Clark looks up, blinking, but a smile spreads across his face as he realises who’s interrupted his work. Lois is smiling too; she’s giddy about the story, and Clark just look so damn cute when he’s working.

“Seen the paper this morning?” she asks casually, perching on the edge of Clark’s desk.

Clark's smile widens, and she knows he’s got her all figured out. Hardly a surprise; if there’s anyone who can read her like a book, it’s him. “My mom called when she saw the story in the paper, but I haven’t looked at it myself. I didn’t think it was something a seasoned journalist would do.”

Lois knows she’s being goaded, but she isn’t going to fall for it. “Well, somebody has to make sure they didn’t forget to print it.” She’s strangely jealous of the fact that Martha called to congratulate Clark on his first published article; her family’s never taken interest in her career. Her Pulitzer didn’t even warrant a phone call.

He chuckles. “Do you _really_ think Perry would let them get away with forgetting an article?”

Lois shrugs nonchalantly. “You never know.”

“Admit it, Lois,” Clark teases. His glasses have slipped down his nose, those hypnotic blue eyes no longer obscured by lenses. “You just wanted to see our names in print.”

“I figured it was something worth keeping. Lois Lane doesn’t share her by-line with anyone, you know,” Lois says, reaching over and helping herself to a bite of the donut sitting next to his pencil holder. Maple glaze. Her favourite.

Clark gives a small, exasperated sigh, but doesn’t protest.

(He’s given up on trying to stop Lois from taking his food.)

“Planning on doing it again?”

“Mm?” Lois mumbled, mouth full of donut.

Clark is looking at her, expression teasingly quizzical. “Sharing your by-line. Is that a one-time thing, or do you think you can stand to work with me for a little longer?”

Lois considers, corners of her mouth twitching. “The jury’s out on that one, Smallville,” she says, leaning over to push his glasses back up his nose, “but I’m willing to be open-minded.”

Clark smiles, reaching up to catch her fingers. She can feel her pulse speeding up. “In that case, what do you say we celebrate our first successful story? I hear there’s a Chinese place around the corner from your place that makes excellent egg rolls.”

(Only because she’s raved about them on several occasions. Chen’s is her favourite Chinese place in the city. Possibly in the country. They certainly have the best egg rolls.)

“I think I can spare a few hours,” she says, trying to keep her flirtatious smile from becoming a kid-in-the-candy-store grin. “My LuthorCorp story’s not due for another week.”

“Our LuthorCorp story. Partners, remember?” Clark taps his pencil against his thigh, obviously enjoying himself.

“I have a right to my own by-line,” Lois says, hopping off the desk. “Pulitzer prize-winner, remember?”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

“Watch yourself, Smallville,” Lois warns. “You’re still on probation.” Though they both know the whole probation thing is just for show. As much fuss as she might make about sharing her by-line with him, it’s a decision she’ll never regret.

Clark smirks. He definitely knows she’s lying.

(She swipes his donut on her way back to her desk.)


End file.
